A Tale of Tails
by mew-tsubaki
Summary: Oneshot, light femslash. Two bad habits and one spell later, and the life of Morag MacDougal is changed forever. *Morag-centric* .::GGE '15 entry 1—for Jess::.


**A Tale of Tails**

A HariPo oneshot

by mew-tsubaki

Note: The _Harry Potter_ characters belong to J.K. Rowling, not me. Been a while since I wrote the pairing, but I've never tried this kind of story before… :O Read, review, and enjoy! *Written for **autumn midnights** for the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2015 forum with the pairing Morag/Romilda.

\- ^-^3

"'And so, transfiguration beyond a doubt…'" Morag MacDougal's words trailed off as her eyes roamed the page, taking in every single word. The words would be processed later. She had a habit of speed-reading and a lot of the time nothing ever stuck when she read in the moment. But she had learned early on that her brain would marinate in new information, because she would recall everything vividly afterwards.

For instance, it would occur to her later the specialness of what she was reading. The tome was in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts, but she was all right. She'd gotten special permission to come here because she was one of the few students in her class who had survived the war to return for an eighth year.

Morag kept reading and reached blindly to her left with her free hand, grabbing a handful of Bertie Bott's beans and stuffing them in her mouth. It made it a little hard to keep the book upright because that was another of her bad habits, holding on to books with her wand still in hand. But always holding on to her wand allowed her to put books away quickly and safely, only to Summon new texts down in front of her.

Still, her eyes were tired. She didn't need to glance out the window to know it was dark. It was the middle of January—it had been dark for hours. Supper would be soon, and she needed a break. But she read a few more lines.

"'…and to grow extra limbs, sometimes the occasional wizard would…'" And so on and so forth she read.

Eventually the day ended, for Madam Pince's hooked nose arrived before the rest of the librarian. "Miss MacDougal," she stated, "the library is closed for dinner."

"Yes, Madam Pince. I'm almost done."

"Now, Miss MacDougal. You have a friend waiting for you."

Morag's concentration broke and she felt herself blushing. She knew exactly who this "friend" would be. "Ah, right. I'll just put things away, then."

Madam Pince nodded and left. She'd softened a little since the war almost a year ago, but Morag liked to think that was just because Morag was a) a brilliant Ravenclaw and b) someone who'd willingly returned to finish her schooling. Plus, Morag always left the library tidy, even if her rucksack and four-poster in Ravenclaw Tower were pigsties that begged to differ.

The young witch gave the book one last look, falling back into her trance once more, muttering along with the lines on the page. A spell she had never seen or heard of before ended a paragraph, and her lips tasted it before her brain caught up with the words.

A dim green flash of light popped on the tip of her wand, which had remained in her right hand, and Morag startled.

She blinked and snapped out of it. She glanced down at herself, checking that everything was in order, and her panic receded. She was fine. The light had to have been nothing—after all, her eyes were tired, and people with tired eyes tended to imagine seeing things.

Out of curiosity (really, to reassure herself), Morag looked down at the transfiguration book in hand. "Damn," she mumbled, sighing and whisking it away to its proper place on the shelf. That distraction had led her to close the book. It would take her an hour to find her place, and she couldn't risk annoying the librarian.

_Well, I'll remember what was on the page come bedtime,_ Morag fooled herself. And she put everything else away before meeting her "friend" to walk to dinner.

\- ^-^3

She sat with Romilda and some of their friends at the Gryffindor table for dinner. It wasn't clearly the Gryffindor table anymore because the teachers had grown lax about House divisions considering everything that had happened, and now most students sat at any table freely…save for the Slytherin table.

"I couldn't find you in the library, so I asked Pince if she'd seen you," Romilda explained as they ate. She pursed her lips. "I didn't sic her on you, did I?"

Morag broke into a grin that was almost a laugh. "No, I'm fine. Still have all my limbs. Would you like to check?"

Romilda blushed and turned back to her dinner plate. "No, that's all right."

Morag's green eyes studied Romilda and she let the subject drop, focusing on her own meal.

Everyone had been tense the past two years. Morag had tried to keep things light when she could, much to her roommates' chagrin. And even hiding out in the Room of Requirement, she'd tried to keep the underclassmen's spirits up. Romilda had been one of those underclassmen, but she'd gotten more than her fair share of Morag's attention simply for being uncertainly beautiful to Morag amidst the hell they were living. They'd even saved each other's lives during the final battle—Morag saved Romilda first, then Romilda saved Morag after, not to be outdone. But Morag had had a feeling for a while that Romilda had done so partially so as not to owe any debts, so as not to rely on Morag, not depend on her. After all, Romilda Vane was infamous as the girl who had tried to get the famous Harry Potter before Ginny Weasley landed him.

But at least Romilda was kind enough to entertain Morag's interest as friendship.

Morag looked around the Great Hall, trying to avoid the familiar faces with which she sat. Sometimes she wondered if anyone else had almost gotten back to having a normal life. Hers was all right, except for the Romilda front.

But what about that Hufflepuff boy with the dark hair and acne trying to pass off as freckles? And that Gryffindor girl who smiled one second only to let her façade slip as soon as her friends' attention was off her? And what of that Slytherin girl who kept pushing the food on her plate with her utensils but wasn't taking a single bite, and likely hadn't for ages considering how frighteningly thin she looked?

Morag returned her eyes to her steak and watched her fork and knife work. She could be curious about the others, but it was only curiosity these days. Studying her friends and classmates and teachers too often had killed the caring in her for now.

At least, that's what Morag thought that first night.

\- ^-^3

The first night, in her bed, Morag tried to think back over the day's events.

Greeting Padma in the morning, since they were the only female eagles in their year left.

Showering and dressing for the day. Grabbing her things for class (Transfiguration, Potions, Charms, Herbology, Defense, History, Creatures).

Greeting Michael and Terry in the common room. Having Terry point out that her shoe was busted, letting him cast Reparo.

Seeing Romilda on the way to breakfast, falling into step with her. Noting that Romilda was doing more to meet her eyes. Giving Romilda a winning smile as a reward.

Eating, going to class, tuning out Hermione in Charms when she opened up a little more about the spells she'd used to save her arse and Harry's and Ron's when they'd been on the lam. Then hitting the library before dinner.

Thinking of the library forced her to think about the information she'd absorbed…and, yet, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't recall what she'd been reading. It had been a book on transfiguration, hadn't it? But… She squinted at the curtains around her bed. Crap. What _had_ she been reading about? She remembered being in the Restricted Section, but she had unrestricted access to the collection, so it wasn't as though she could ask Madam Pince what book she'd been studying.

Frustrated, Morag lay there, fighting the urge to toss and turn in order to fall asleep. How could she have not recalled what she'd been reading? In her whole life, this was the first time her ability had failed her, and it bothered her.

…but her unease ebbed. Her worry disappeared before she could even reassure herself that she could always try to look up the book again tomorrow. So she closed her eyes and eventually drifted off, never even minding that she was beginning to do things out of order.

\- ^-^3

Her mind, little by little, began to change.

It was not just her way of thinking, but her mind itself. She lost her interest in others' motives for coming back to Hogwarts, and she threw herself into her studies, the only useful things. She began to spend less time around the other Year Eight girls, even Padma.

The only person who could still break her attention was Romilda, and Morag felt the worse off without even realizing it. Before, Romilda had been the pretty girl Morag had a crush on. Nowadays…Romilda had some other quality that seemed to make her sparkle slightly in Morag's vision.

Morag, of course, told herself that it was just her imagination. _This is just you falling in love,_ the witch thought. And she swore that up and down even as her vision changed and colors grew dim and yet only Romilda stood out brilliantly to her.

And then came the day when she couldn't breathe.

\- ^-^3

She was in Charms when it happened. It was just her and the other eighth years—Padma, Michael, Terry, Hermione, Sally-Anne, Justin, Susan, Wayne, Daphne, Pansy, and Blaise—in the room at the start of class, and Flitwick had yet to appear.

She had been doodling on a spare bit of parchment, eavesdropping on Terry telling Padma of his plans to become a Healer when her vision dimmed its darkest in the past week. For a good moment, she imagined she would faint, but then the pain came when she gasped.

And the air stung her throat.

Morag's eyes fluttered and she dropped her quill. She gasped again and reached out for someone, anyone, but her mind emptied of every thought except for breathing.

The witch flailed and caught Padma's attention. Padma, Terry, and Michael were up like a light, and it vaguely registered with Morag that people were shouting and someone screamed.

The eagles got her on her back after she fell out of her chair, but they didn't know what to do. Luckily, Professor Flitwick arrived then, and he rushed to her while Padma rapidly explained.

Morag reached for Padma's arm and gripped it, her fingertips digging into the Indian girl's arm as though she had razor-sharp claws. "_Water_!" she expelled.

Padma yelped in surprise and summoned water from thin air.

Morag released her, and relief flooded her…for a brief minute. No sooner had the water washed over her face and nearly absorbed than Morag felt like a fish out of water again. She felt small, cool fingers touching her face and prodding her jaw and neck. There was a collective gasp, and she heard "Hospital Wing" before she blacked out.

\- ^-^3

Blacking out gave way to dream-laden sleep, and Morag dreamed of water and weapons and territories and collecting shiny things.

When she did finally wake, she found herself indeed in Madam Pomfrey's care.

Padma stood over her. In the background, Terry aided the nurse in her office. "Morag!" Padma looked relieved, but her eyes were red and blotchy. "Oh, revered Rowena. Are you all right?"

"I think so," Morag replied, but her response sounded and felt funny, as if she were speaking through bubbles.

"Don't try to talk too much, if it hurts," Padma continued, pulling up a chair to Morag's cot.

"What happened?"

The expression on Padma's face told her that maybe she didn't want to know. "Morag…that's what we're trying to figure out."

"No, what happened when I collapsed in Charms?"

"Well… You were fine one second, then the next you were suffocating. We gave you water, because you demanded that—and I think Flitwick had a suspicion."

The wing grew quiet after Padma stopped. The bed sheet felt cold and clammy in Morag's hand. "What was his suspicion?" she asked softly.

"I didn't even know it's possible, and Flitwick's never seen anything like it before—"

Oh, Merlin, Padma could be so infuriating sometimes, belaboring the littlest of points! "_What_?!" Morag snapped.

Padma stared at her. "Morag, he felt…_gills_ on your neck."

Instinctively, Morag's hands flew up to her neck, to the spot beneath her jaw and ears. Her fingers poked something, and when she drew her hands away to look at them, she saw they were wet—with water.

"Flitwick cast a modified Bubble-Head Charm on you, just to cover the gills, otherwise you can't breathe. He showed Madam Pomfrey, Terry, and me how to do it, too, just in case."

"In case what?" the dark-haired witch asked sharply, not tearing her eyes away from her wet hands.

"Charms don't often last forever. They have to be re-cast to be maintained."

Morag pursed her lips. This had to be a nightmare.

\- ^-^3

But it wasn't a nightmare.

Try as they might, word got out about the girl who needed water to breath, thus dubbed the mermaid.

Right after the initial incident, the school had called Morag's mother, her only parent, in, and they tried their best to explain what had happened. But the teachers were just as perplexed as Morag herself, so there were few answers they could give Mrs. MacDougal.

The teachers questioned Morag. Had she eaten anything strange? Had she crossed paths with a creature or plant she shouldn't've? Was she on anyone's bad side, someone who might have cast a spell as a joke?

But even the spell theory didn't sit well with the teachers. After all, no one had ever heard of a spell that could turn a witch or wizard into a merperson—or any other creature, permanently, either.

"Are you certain you didn't eat any gillyweed?" Sprout kept asking.

"For the last time, Pomona, there's no kind of gillyweed that would last more than an hour, let alone for days!" Pomfrey corrected.

"Perhaps it _was_ a spell," McGonagall surmised. She exchanged a look with Flitwick as the teachers stood gathered in the headmistress' office on the weekend, Morag sitting in the chair before the desk. "What do you think, Filius?"

"I've never heard of such a thing," the tiny wizard stated.

Morag's eyes glazed over while they analyzed her. She really would've rather been anywhere but there in that moment. Outside, for instance, despite the arrival of February with a fresh batch of snow. Maybe she'd go down by the lake and just stick her toes in… She blinked, wondering where the idea had come from. Maybe she was buying into everyone's perception of her as the on-land mermaid.

"Wait," McGonagall said, quieting the other faculty. "Miss MacDougal has permission to use the Restricted Section."

Pince nodded. "Yes. She's spent quite a bit of time in there this year."

The headmistress looked at Morag. "Did you come across any books that might've had an effect on you, Morag? We've done our best over the centuries, but there are still books we haven't been through that have enchantments on them, because they came from the founders' personal collections."

Morag shook her head. "No, ma'am. I try to Summon all of my reading material…partly because I'm lazy, but also because such a spell can't interfere with heavier enchantments, so I know which books it might not be a good idea to handle." She sighed and leaned on McGonagall's desk, rubbing her temples. "And I don't try out anything. I just read."

"Yes, but _what_ were you reading?"

"Oh, I—" The Ravenclaw stopped. She searched around in her memory, but she drew a blank. She blanched. This had never, ever happened before. "I don't remember?" she whispered.

With the room so quiet, the adults heard her, and Flitwick gasped. "Miss MacDougal, not remembering?"

"We've had her in our classes, too, Filius," Slughorn stated. "We know her memory, and are just as surprised," he continued, looking her up and down as if she were a new substance to be studied.

"Then it has to have been some spell in some book somewhere!" Morag cried.

"What book?" Pince prompted.

"It was—" But it wasn't just the information that she'd been storing that she couldn't recall now. She didn't even remember the book title. "I don't _know_," she sobbed. But her sobs were dry and seemed like an imitation. Her worry faded as soon as it came, as did her panic at realizing she didn't appear to care much about her current situation.

The final verdict was that the teachers didn't know what to do next. Flitwick maintained that it was probably a lost spell meant to grow gills, so as long as his modified Bubble-Head Charm was maintained, they likely wouldn't have to worry. Besides, what else could they do?

It wasn't to say that the teachers were done looking into things, and Terry spent nearly every minute of his free time with Pomfrey, trying to find a solution. But Morag was given the all-clear to return to class, despite her odd circumstances.

The other Hogwartians were shocked and pointed and whispered in the beginning, but after being told off by Hermione, Susan, and—surprisingly—Pansy and Daphne, the hubbub died down. Morag appreciated the other witches siding with her, but her thankfulness, just like her worry and panic seemed to do these days, evaporated nearly the moment is emerged.

"That's kind of cool, though," Romilda commented when they ate lunch in the Room of Requirement to escape the stares. The middle of February had passed, and so the castle was still getting used to Morag's condition.

"I'm not sure I agree, but I can't bring myself to care." Morag looked down at the roast beef sandwich she'd spirited from the Great Hall. It wasn't as appetizing as it once had been to her.

Romilda frowned. "That's an odd thing to say."

"I know."

The two witches ate quietly in front of the fire in the room that had once served the D.A. for meetings. "You've always been one of the coolest witches, you know, with your metal jewelry and boyish attitude, but my friends think it's pretty cool that you're a mermaid now, too, and you just continue with school as if that's the most natural thing in the world."

Frankly, it _wasn't _the most natural thing in the world, but it was one of the few things that held Morag's attention. "I suppose." She frowned, too. "Do you think it's cool that I've grown gills?"

Romilda shrugged. "I dunno. I've never considered knowing a person with gills."

Morag's shoulders sagged.

"But you look pretty rad with the water pockets covering them, like you're some new breed of witch who has powers I don't." Romilda smiled then. "It's probably just a bad spell, or a spell gone wrong. I wonder, though…"

"What?"

"Well, I've studied with you before," Romilda continued, her expression morphing into one of thought. "I've hung out with you often enough—I know you read aloud with the text sometimes, and I've seen you keep your wand in hand…"

Morag's face crumpled. "Oh, _no_. Did I seriously do something so stupid as to do this to _myself_?"

Romilda hopped off the table on which they sat and held her hands up in front of Morag. "Hold on, hold on. I'm not blaming you, Mor. But…does that sound a little familiar?"

The eagle closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "I don't know. Yes. No. Maybe. I'm aware I do those things, but it's only ever after I've been engaging in those bad habits. I never catch myself at the right time." She shook her head. "Maybe I finally caught myself at the worst time ever."

Romilda took a step forward, nudging Morag's knees to the side and leaning towards her, peering up at the older girl. "Morag…it'll be all right."

"You don't know that."

The freckled girl continued to stare. "No… But don't blame yourself. I once read, in _Witch Weekly_, that habits are the fault of our subconscious. Yes, it was your subconscious, which is a part of you…but maybe we can blame it instead?" Her freckles popped against the red flush of her cheeks while she tried to suss out a reasonable excuse to blame anyone but Morag. The effort put Morag at ease, and she ruffled Romilda's hair.

"Thanks for trying, Romy."

Romilda locked eyes with her, a little annoyed that maybe Morag wasn't taking her entirely seriously. She refused to move, but Morag turned to the side and climbed off the table anyway. Lunch was about to end anyway, and they couldn't stay in the Room of Requirement forever, guessing at what had happened and what might happen.

\- ^-^3

The days became weeks, and Morag seemed determined to become Hogwarts' first mermaid graduate. She put it out of her mind, the spell that had done this to her—it wasn't hard, since she had basically forgotten it as soon as she'd read it. And she tried not to care too much about it. Considering how dangerous it was, it might even be one of those spells that could disappear right off the page, as far as she knew.

Romilda feigned a lack of worry, too, although Morag noted how much more often Romilda joined her in the library, and if Morag needed a book from the Restricted Section, Romilda would have Pince get it now. Morag enjoyed Romilda's overprotection, and she appreciated that, despite all that had happened, the teachers had decided not to revoke her access to the collection.

Romilda tried peeking at some of those books, too—it only made sense, because she was in her sixth year and beginning to study to become an Auror—but Morag never let her glimpse enough. Romilda, like Morag, could be brash and a little reckless, and Morag didn't want to see the younger girl land herself in even worse trouble than Morag had.

And trouble it was. At first, for a long while, everyone had assumed gills was where the spell stopped. But that wasn't the case, for Morag now had to cast a Heating Charm on all of her assignments to dry them off before turning them in, because her hands were now always slick with…with _something_. She'd first thought she now profusely sweated, but whatever the substance was, it was a bit sticky, a weird kind of secretion.

Romilda noticed it, too, but said nothing. She sometimes would reach over and poke the back of Morag's hand, but the secretion never disgusted her. Whenever Morag tried to pull away—she didn't want Romilda's hands sullied with the substance—Romilda would just place her hand over the older girl's, pat it, and keep Morag's hand still.

This was Morag's only solace.

She meant to tell the teachers about the new side-effect, but it kept slipping her mind. Her attention would be caught by the suits of armor and their weapons instead, or by Romilda's radiance (which she still couldn't explain as anything but having really fallen in love for the first time). So Romilda informed the headmistress for her, but what could the teachers do again but observe?

\- ^-^3

Where Morag's mind wandered to her disastrous change of events, some part of her still held on to her despair, believing that maybe this was a new way to die. But that part of her—the remaining human part, unbeknownst to her—grew quieter and quieter as March came along, promising rain to wash away the snow.

"I wish it would rain soon," she began to say to Romilda.

Romilda would glance at her, frown, and reach for her hand to hold it.

"I wish it would rain soon," she began to whisper to Padma in their dorm in the middle of the night.

Padma would pretend she didn't hear anything.

_I wish it would rain soon_, she began to think in the middle of her classes.

She was quiet these days, and it was almost as if everyone forgot about the mermaid in their midst. She could still pull information from her head and she passed her tests and such, but the more information she regurgitated onto parchment, the more information fell out of her head and the more her mind wandered, and she began to daydream.

She wanted to swim, she'd muse, even though the ice hadn't fully thawed yet. But she wanted to swim nevertheless, and she regained her appetite little by little, eating only fish and vegetable dishes nowadays. She wanted to swim, and swim badly, and her legs seemed to wake up at this notion, and they wanted her to swim, too.

After all, what other explanation was there for her being unable to walk to class anymore?

It happened suddenly, walking Romilda to Gryffindor Tower when her legs gave out. Romilda screamed, drawing Hermione and Sally-Anne and a few other lions from behind the Fat Lady's portrait, but Morag could care less.

She wanted to swim. She wanted to collect shiny things, things that pleased her. She wanted to learn how to use weapons because magic wasn't going to do her a whole lot of good underwater if she wanted to keep trespassers away from her things.

And so Morag MacDougal's mind began to deteriorate.

\- ^-^3

Morag could no longer attend classes. She developed webbing between her toes, and the secretion on her hands arrived in near downpours on her legs so that if she tried to walk she would make squelching noises and would leave a slippery trail of footprints behind her. But the trail was never long, because she began to take fewer and fewer steps before giving up walking altogether.

She now had her own cot in the Hospital Wing for as long as the school year lasted, and the teachers would come and give her lessons, and her friends would come by and try to do homework with her, and Romilda would come and visit her.

Only Romilda held her attention as the lion spoke about her day and told Morag jokes and smiled for Morag.

Even if fewer and fewer words of English made sense to Morag, Romilda's smile stuck out in her mind. That smile, those freckles, that radiance—Romilda was Morag's favorite shiny object, and a large part of her wanted to take Romilda with her into the lake, to hold on to her forever.

(But the human part of her feebly protested that that wasn't a good idea, not unless she wanted to murder Romilda.)

\- ^-^3

April arrived.

Morag no longer knew what months were, and so April didn't register with her. However, instinctively she knew when the time outside the castle was right, and she grew fidgety in her cot.

"What is it, Morag?" Romilda asked her on a nice spring Saturday.

"I want to go swimming," Morag replied monotonously.

Romilda's eyes filled with tears, but she gave Morag another smile regardless. "…I know," she said quietly.

Morag's mind wasn't completely gone yet. "Why are you crying? Do you want to go swimming, too?"

The freckled witch swiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just… It's tragic," she muttered wetly.

The human in her decided to reply. "If losing your humanity counts, then I guess it's a tragedy." But even the human part of her was giving up, and her statement came out sounding cold and harsh.

"If you go in the water—I don't think you'll come back, Morag."

Morag shrugged.

"I don't want you to be alone."

Her desire for her favorite object made her heart twinge a bit at seeing her favorite thing sad.

"Morag…I'd feel lonely if you were to leave."

Morag's humanity let her do one last kind thing. "Romy—don't die for me."

Romilda gasped and collapsed in a fit of tears on Morag's cot. Morag, for her part, patted the girl's back, but her mind was already outside swimming in the Black Lake.

\- ^-^3

After putting it off and some debate considering there was no solution, the teachers did a first and released Morag into the lake.

Her mother was there on that day towards the end of April, crying her heart out. She watched as McGonagall and Flitwick levitated a shallow tub filled some with water and Morag down the stairs and out the castle, past the grounds, and to the edge of the waterfront. They tilted the tub and Morag pushed herself out, landing quietly in the water.

For Morag, it was refreshing. The water of the lake felt better than the Bubble-Head Charm. Her legs had secreted a kind of scaly skin and joined, and her tail was nearly fully-formed. There was even webbing between her fingers now, and she looked more moss green than pasty white, her eyes large and dark and her hair like seaweed.

She swam around the edge, and her mother and teachers stood watching over her until the sun began to set. But one by one they filed back inside, Mrs. MacDougal last accompanied by Professor Sprout who promised to fix her a soothing pot of tea.

Morag swam in circles and kept popping her head up, expecting one more person. The sun almost set before she saw her.

Romilda ran down from the castle, panting, and she tripped, falling to her knees at the waterfront. Romilda gasped to catch her breath, and she made noises which Morag no longer understood.

"I just heard—I didn't know they were moving you today—"

Morag cocked her head to the side curiously, observing Romilda with her round black eyes.

"Morag, I'm so sorry—this past year—I just—"

The mermaid spun in circles. The water was calling to her, as were the other entities beneath the surface.

"I want you to know that I knew you liked me and I like you, too, and I don't want this to be our final goodbye—" Romilda was crying.

Morag reached up, wanting to touch the water coming from Romilda's eyes.

Romilda held Morag's hand to her cheek. "Mor, luv, you wait for me. I'll find that damned spell, I will, I promise, and if I can't reverse what's happened to you, then I swear I'll join you. We'll be together again, I promise!"

Morag blinked and dropped her hand, and she started to sink beneath the surface.

"Mor! Morag! You hear me?! I promise!"

All that Morag heard were dull, hollow sounds like bubbles above the water. After all, all she understood were underwater screeches now, being a mermaid.

And Romilda, ever a brave lion and never a studious eagle, would never find the spell.

\- ^-^3

**So…I don't know where I came up with this idea, but it was fun (though sad) to write, because I think I've only ever written a creature!fic once, and I'm still not sure it counts, *lol*. One has to wonder about the ability to transform oneself in such a way as this, though, in the HariPo universe. I enjoyed the lightness of the pairing, too, because sometimes even I don't want a story to be only about a pairing (this one which, btw, belongs to my pal, ****autumn midnights****). It was also interesting to write a character's humanity fading away and seeing that in how her mind and thought patterns changed… Guess it goes to show you—don't hold on to your wand and read spells aloud when in the Restricted Section. :O Hope you enjoyed this, Jess! XD Different, huh?**

**Thanks for reading, and please review!**

**-mew-tsubaki :O**


End file.
